


Marked and Claimed

by mee4ever



Series: The Lord and Saviour [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Beating, Begging, Bondage, Bottom Draco, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Lord Harry Potter, Dark Mark, Dom Harry Potter, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Name-Calling, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Slytherin Harry, Sub Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mee4ever/pseuds/mee4ever
Summary: “If you’re initiated, there’s actually a chance he’ll make you his,” Pansy had used as an argument for Draco to become more involved with Potter’s gang. Draco had become more involved. He’d gotten so deeply involved that Potter had finally noticed him.Or the one where Draco surrenders not only his arm but his entire self to one Lord Potter.





	Marked and Claimed

**Author's Note:**

> On the request of my wonderful [Lovi](https://crybabydraco.tumblr.com/), here you have some hard core shit coming from me. It is in a universe that will be called “The Lord and Saviour” and will feature random pieces with the same intended setting. Since I'm an impatience bastard, it is not yet beta-read. 
> 
> Story based on [this](http://alekina.tumblr.com/post/110998951140/he-wants-to-laugh-at-the-irony-he-really-does-as) marvoulus artwork by [alekina](http://alekina.tumblr.com/).
> 
> _Please note that while this fic may display some elements that can be generally linked to BDSM and the BDSM community, this scene, as it goes, does not have the proper prior arrangement such as rules or agreement for it to be either safe, consensual nor sane. The power structure, the dom’s general display of lack of actual care for his sub, and the feeling that the dom would keep going even without his sub’s continuous eagerness is intentional, but it is not a how a real-life relationship should look or be sought out to be, and I do not intend for it to be interpreted as such. The consent level of this fic is dubious at best, despite the sub wanting the encounter, and everything in it, to take place. Stay safe._

“Be quiet now, Draco,” Potter sneered, “and don’t look if you’re going to be a crybaby about it.” Potter put his hand atop Draco’s head and forcibly turned his gaze away and Draco couldn’t do other than accept his fate.

“Yes, my Lord,” Draco said, only a slight quiver finding it’s way onto the words. He bowed his head deeper than the pressure Potter put on it and he tried not to flinch as the spell gouged into his forearm. There was a blinding green and blue light filling the darkness and it kept blaring out of Potter’s wand throughout the whole initiation. Draco could only see in his peripheral vision as Potter conjured the snake with a _Serpensortia_ but he could feel its scales slither around his arm. This was not the time to be squeamish, but Draco couldn’t help but gasp as the snake hugged around his flesh, tight, tight. Potter didn’t seem to notice what the snake was up to, but he pressed on Draco’s head again.

“Hold still,” he demanded and Draco raised his arm up again, he hadn’t even noticed that he’d began lowering it. Draco gripped his own wand tightly and balled his other hand into a fist, pressing his nails into the flesh of his palm to keep it from moving, from doing something stupid. This was what he wanted, after all, agony and finality be damned. Anything Potter wanted to give him, Draco would take.

“It is nothing short of a gift,” the Dark Lord had said and Draco had graciously accepted to take it when it was clear who was going to deliver it. He hadn’t bothered to read the fine prints: how it would be performed, how it would look, what it would mean. He hadn’t cared. What was a Dark Mark more or less on his name, when it already was defiled, dirtied and thrown to the roaches? If it was considered a present, one from the Dark Lord and his closest apprentice, who was Draco to tell them no?

And now, with the snake’s pressure gone from around his arm, but the inside of it feeling like it was moving about, Draco wished he would’ve paid more attention to the proceedings rather than Potter’s unruly hair and vicious smirk. He wished he would’ve cared to ask what was going to happen, instead of falling head first into the hands of a spell-crazed Potter with his mouth a careful line and his fingers digging into Draco’s scalp. The spell pain was edging towards his bone. Had he not been so afraid Potter would see him a wuss, Draco would’ve cried, screamed, begged him to stop. Instead, he just churned his jaw and tried to breathe. Through the pain. Through the pain. It was a type burn he had never experienced before, like being on fire but the fire was cold, it hissed and it sputtered, and Draco had never been one to endure pain well.

“Admittedly, you’re holding up better than I would’ve guessed,” Potter said. The words, however ill intended towards Draco’s usually soft character, hardened Draco’s defenses and although he had been on the brink of tears, with a cry on his lips, he remained steady, quiet, pliant.

“Thank you. My Lord.” It was a miracle he could even open his mouth. More of one that he could form words, and a cosmic alignment of the stars that he found the appropriate ones. Potter snorted. Then the level of the searing gouge increased as if to test Draco further and Draco sobbed, partially because of the unbearing butchering of his left arm and partially because of the shock that it could somehow get worse.

“Not good enough, though,” Potter mussed and Draco did everything in his power to keep the next sob in, but to no avail. Then the light dimmed down, the room was once again dark, the half-moon through the window their only light source, and the pressure on his head was released and Draco let his arm fall limply to his side. He didn’t dare to raise his head, so he only stared down at Potter’s tightly laced, black shoes. The snake was restless under his skin, he didn’t know how long it would take before he felt brave enough look at it either.

“If you’re initiated, there’s actually a chance he’ll make you his,” Pansy had used as an argument for Draco to become more involved with Potter’s gang. Draco had become more involved. He’d gotten so deeply involved that Potter had finally noticed him.

Potter’s fingertips set on Draco’s chin, dragging slowly over his jaw and finally gripping tightly to turn Draco’s face towards him. Despite the fact that Draco wanted to look at Potter’s face, he kept his gaze down, surrendering himself even more profoundly. His arm buzzed angrily but it was nothing to the way his body pulsed with Potter touching his skin. He took a staggering breath.

“Eyes up here,” Potter said. Draco blinked a couple of times before he let his eyes wander upwards, from Potter’s polished shoes, up his tightly fitted black slacks, the wand handle fastened in the dark leather belt that held his pants in place (a belt Draco’s gut curled when thinking about), up the black, tucked in dress shirt. Draco stopped at the sliver of skin that peeked through the two popped buttons at the top, Potter’s collarbone catching just enough light to be distinguished. His hooded cloak rested over his shoulders, not weighing him down despite the heavy material but instead, it looked like he was more straight backed with it draping down the length of his body. Finally, Draco blinked one last time and met Potter’s gaze. His eyes looked monochrome, dark, behind his glasses, but there was an ocean of things swirling about within them; Potter was a man who displayed every feeling available through his eyes and Draco suddenly wondered, worried, what Potter would find in his.

“There we go,” Potter said and his fingers slipped away from Draco’s chin to graze at his throat. He cocked his head and then pushed his fingers in deep just beside his jugular; Draco’s pulse amped up at the mere thought of Potter looking for it. Potter pursed his lips. “Let’s play a game,” he said. “I like to call it ‘Lord and the Slave’, known to you?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Draco said.

“See, we’re playing already.” His teeth gleamed and when Draco caught sight of Potter quickly wetting his lips, he swallowed. As Potter felt it through his fingers, his smirk intensified. “The game only works if you comply to command.” Potter let Draco’s neck go, then held his hand up and twisted it one way than the other, and Draco turned his head to either side Potter willed him to. “You’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you, puppet?” Potter folded his fingers towards himself and Draco stopped breathing as he took the tiny step forward to close the distance between them.

“Yes, I promise, my Lord,” he said as Potter’s hand slid up Draco’s neck, coming to a stop so that he could hold him in a secure grip like Draco was a kitten who’d been bad, bad, bad. Draco swallowed, trying not to faint but then he felt Potter’s breath on his lips and it became increasingly more difficult.

“Now,” Potter said and there was something so final in the way he pronounced it like nothing had before been important and now everything that was worth anything started. He leaned in, their cheeks gracing, Potter’s lips brushing Draco’s ear and had nothing before made Draco forget about his arm, this was doing the job splendidly. “Now I need you to pay close attention to everything I say. Can you do that? Huh? _Draco_?” His name rang out like a purr, an order, a taunt.

Draco couldn’t keep quiet, he whined a quiet “fuck” before pressing his lips and eyes tightly shut.

“There, there,” Potter grinned, leaning back to look Draco in the eye again. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re going to start with something simple.” Draco could only nod. “A little… test.” Draco nodded again, eager to show Potter that he wasn’t going to regret this, ready to convince him he would want to come back for more. Potter stepped backwards, giving Draco room to breathe, but if it meant being further away from him, Draco rather would’ve suffocated.

“Put your wand away,” Potter said. If he hadn’t Draco would’ve thought he’d dropped it several minutes ago, he hadn’t even realised he was holding it. He put it away, at the same time Potter slipped his own wand into his holder and they came to look at each other for a second before Potter spoke again. “You are to stay still and quiet.”

“Still and quiet, my Lord,” Draco echoed. He wasn’t prepared when Potter unmercifully slapped him straight across the face; Draco gasped, eyes bulging.

“Eh-ey,” Potter disapproved, fingers in a steely grip on Draco’s chin again, “you have to do better than that.”

Draco straightened, determined to do so. “I will, my Lord.”

Potter gave a slight nod and let him go, before raising his hand again and this time, Draco only blinked, his jaw set tight and he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing no more. Potter took another step back. Draco wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not, if he’d passed the test or if he’d failed. There was no room for failing, though, he would not have come this far to fail on account of not being enough well behaved. Draco lowered his gaze, not wanting to display his slight height advantage. He didn’t have to see Potter’s face to know that the man was regarding him, evaluating, deciding what was to come next. Draco wished to be smacked again. Potter took one elaborate step to the right, Draco followed his shoes with his gaze and wondered how Potter would like it if Draco went to kiss the tips of them. If he’d find it an appalling or submissive act. Draco didn’t move. Potter started pacing around him, just as slow, with just as much intent as one would walk around a sculpture you’d surprisingly found your interest slightly piqued for. The soles of his shoes clicked against the floor, his cloak swooshed, he disappeared completely out of Draco’s sight.

Draco turned his head ever so slightly over his shoulder, he still did not look up, he did not see Potter but he felt braver now. “My Lord, I-”

“You speak,” Potter said dangerously behind his back, “only when spoken to.”

Draco snapped his head completely forward again. “Forgive me, my Lord.” Draco wanted to fall to his knees, give himself up completely, blindly. He remained upstanding, because Potter came up close behind him, put a hand on his shoulder like a dementor would hold their victims and once again leaned in to talk by his ear.

“And when you speak out of turn, you give me no choice but to punish you,” he said and if he had been a dementor, Draco would’ve wanted to kiss him anyway. Potter made Draco turn around on the spot, both of his arms coming up to rest around Draco’s neck and had their situation been different, this would’ve been a sweet scene, they would’ve locked eyes and kissed, and Draco hands would’ve found their way to Potter’s waist. This was not sweet. It was raw. Draco wouldn’t dare meet Potter’s eye again before he was allowed to, he wouldn't dare touching Potter if he hadn’t explicit permission to do so, he didn’t even fucking dare to move. Anything could leave him stuck here, mentally prepared but never taken advantage of, and he could not bear to live with himself then. Potter moved one of his hands back a little so it was placed on the nape of Draco’s neck, and he started to lightly scratch at it with blunt nails. Draco shut his eyes and rolled them; he didn’t know such a small gesture could feel so good.

“Look at me,” Potter said. Draco looked up and was nearly knocked back by the fire burning in Potter’s eyes, the uninhibited lust that was pouring out of his expression, the restraint it must take to not just act upon it because a vein had popped in his forehead. He kept scratching at Draco’s neck, making it hard work for Draco to keep his restraint too. “I know there are many things you’d want me to do to you,” Potter said and Draco swallowed because wasn’t that the truth, “but you do know I really don’t care what you want, don’t you?”

“I do, my Lord.”

Potter looked pleased. “Now, there are, however, a small number of things I want to do to you regardless. You’re going to let me do them.”

He barely had time to finish before Draco answered, “Yes, my Lord.”

Potter responded to the confirmation by looking coldly amused before he cocked his head. “Remove my belt,” he said, and Draco found his tone to sound like a dare, rather than a command. It made Draco uncertain, but he did as told, he looked down and reached out.

“Eyes up here, bucko,” Potter said and he pulled at Draco’s hair to make him look up again. “You’ll manage with just your hands.” Draco swallowed. There was a playfulness in the corner of Potter’s mouth, it made Draco fear it disappearing. It felt like another test, so Draco kept Potter’s gaze and opened the buckle. He tried going for delicately removing the strap, but it did not work as smoothly as intended; Draco at least thought he could calm himself with the way Potter’s smirk turned slightly larger as he struggled. Draco forced the belt out of the hoops, as he did Potter put one hand out and Draco placed the belt in it. Finally, Potter broke eye contact; he let go of Draco completely, to take the belt ends in each hand and to hold it out in between the two of them. He held it high enough so that it hid his mouth, and despite Draco’s obviously submissive nature, the thought of Potter gagged made his stomach flip.

“This is a very useful belt, you see,” Potter said, “it has some extra holes for the buckle, do you know why?” Draco looked at the belt, the indicated extra eyelets and then back to Potter on the other side of it.

“Yes, my Lord,” he said

“Enlighten me.”

“It’s so it also can be fastened around something significantly smaller than a waist.” He gave a slight pause before adding, “Like a neck, my Lord.”

Potter smiled grimly. “Very good.”

Draco pathetically preened over the praise, hungry for more. Potter raised his hands further and put the belt down over Draco’s head like one would put a tie on before tying it, and it wasn’t a heavy belt by no means but the promise of it weighed heavy on Draco’s shoulders.

“For safe keeping,” Potter explained offhandedly; Draco was sure it was to torture him. He was sure it was going to burn holes in his dress shirt, it was going to make him sink through the floor, he was going to choke on it without having it closed. Then Potter was there with his fingers again, this time his index settled under Draco’s bottom lip and his thumb crossed over it. Potter’s eyes were fixed there, and he sounded positively possessed when he told Draco they were going to put _this_ to good use. Since his lip was captured, Draco didn’t answer, but he wasn’t sure he could’ve anyhow.

“New rule,” Potter said and inhaled sharply, “eye-contact is to be kept when possible.” He moved his thumb to the side so Draco easily could agree. It was an unusual demand, but one Draco didn’t have a problem complying to. As much as submission went with keeping your eyes lowered, he found that he very much liked to look Potter in the eye, especially when there was just so much to find in them. What ticked Draco, though, was that Potter kept looking at his mouth.

“If you please me enough, I might be ever so kind as to let you come tonight.”

Draco whined, low and puppy-like; he was anxious to get just Potter off, the almost promise of a maybe to get off himself was nearly too much. Potter finally snapped his gaze up. “You’re allowed to beg,” he said like this was a new rule as well.

“Now, my Lord?” Draco asked after swallowing hard.

Entertained by Draco’s enthusiasm, Potter bit his lip before giving a short, superior shrug. “Feel free. Better yet: if you don’t, this won’t be enough fun.”

“Please, let me suck you off.” Potter raised a brow and Draco hurried to finish with “my Lord”.

“No,” Potter said.

Draco almost stepped forward. “Please, my Lord, please, I’m good at it.”

Snorting, Potter disclosed, “I bet you are.”

Feeling desperate, like Potter had maybe changed his mind about all of this completely, Draco harshly breathed out. “My Lord, it is my only wish, please.”

“Your only, huh? And here I thought you’d want to please me in any possible way.”

Baffled, Draco hurried to correct himself. “I do, my Lord! In any way, I did not mean to imply otherwise, forgive me, my Lord.”

Potter patted his cheek like he was only joking. “So, why the only one wish?” he then asked like he was honestly curious.

“It is the only thing I can dare wish you would want of me.”

“Aw, now, who’s a self-conscious little puppy?”

“I am, my Lord.” Potter’s thumb swept again over Draco’s lip, then the inside of it and Draco experimentally opened his mouth further to see whether or not Potter would like that. It seemed he did because he slowly stuck the finger inside. The feeling of Potter being _inside_ him, even just a thumb, was mind-blowing but Draco managed the two things he was supposed to do here: showing Potter what he could do with his mouth, his tongue, and not closing his eyes. The experiment didn’t last long; soon Potter snatched his finger back.

“To your knees,” he said and quickly pushed at the top of Draco’s head. Draco thanked him. “Remember the rule,” Potter said and flicked the tip of Draco’s nose so he leaned his head back. He’d been very serious about the eye contact, and Draco’s fingers buzzed when he realised he was going to watch Potter watch him suck Potter’s cock. With an inclining of his head, Potter let him know he was supposed to continue. Draco willed his hands not to shake as he desperately raised them and let his fingertips exploringly trace over the front of Potter’s trousers. The material scratched lightly and it made Draco aware of how otherwise quiet it was; his heartbeat, their combined breathing, and that was it. That, in turn made him realise how real this was, how in the moment he was and how he wished to be this fully present through the rest of the evening. He managed to pop the button on the first try and he saw how Potter’s Adam's apple bobbed deliciously. Draco wanted to reach up, to drag his lips over Potter’s neck and leave wet traces, red traces, purple traces. He wondered if Potter would ever let him.

If fingers against fabric was a loud noise in the silence, it was nothing compared to the zipper being opened. Draco covered the cringe he felt coming by reaching both his hands down Potter's pants, effectively bringing them down around the middle of Potter’s thighs. For his own benefit, Draco cast a quick glance downwards, giving him a firm picture of how Potter looked underneath the first layer of clothing. Straining against dark green underwear was, first and foremost, Harry Potter’s cock. He couldn’t make out the real shape with that quick look, but it was bulging enough to make Draco’s mouth water, his knees weaken. Potter had relatively meaty thighs, his dark skin painted darker by his stark black happy trail. Draco wanted to look when he shuffled the underwear out of the way but he forced himself not to. Potter practically radiated heat, he smelled faintly of a cedarwood and apples, oddly masculine, pleasantly inviting. It was Potter who broke eye contact first this time, so Draco thought he was allowed to look down too, which he did. Jerking ever so slightly, filling out fuller and fuller by the second, Potter’s cock was about ten times as inviting in flesh as it had been covered by cloth. Thick and long, Potter displayed way over average but in such a way Draco didn't fear what it could do to him. Just. He really wanted to know. Would he be able to take him all in? Would it make him gag? Tear up? Would he feel hollowed with it inside him? Draco couldn't bloody wait. Potter couldn't bloody wait. There was suddenly a hand around Potter's cock and then there was another in Draco's hair, and the second harshly guided Draco's head forward. As automatically as one opens one's mouth to a fork, Draco opened his mouth for Potter's cock as Potter smoothly moved his hips forward.

His cock slid down over Draco's tongue in one quick motion, hot, heavy, and further down than Draco could take it without gagging. Potter didn't care, and frankly, Draco liked it. His eyes did water, but then he remembered their "agreement" and Draco blinked when Potter forced his head backwards, and he looked up when his head was again pushed forward. Potter's gaze had never been so intense, his eyes had never looked at Draco with even half the savaging want as he did now. Draco keened, he moaned as well as he could when stuffed with cock. It was, weirdly enough, better than he'd imagined, being surrendered to Potter and his wicked ways. It felt, as Draco proudly noted, rather intimate. They kept looking at each other as Potter manhandled Draco the best he wanted, Draco pleading for more with every blinking movement, and Potter craving more with every thrust, every push, going hard, speeding up.

Draco wasn’t very well practised in being used as a toy when sucking cock, but he was still used to doing it so the act in itself was second nature and he found that had it been anyone else behaving like Potter did, he wouldn’t have cared for it but when it was Potter… This man seemed to make Draco want to give up every part of himself, let him do whatever he wanted, in any way he saw fit. And his cock fit beautifully in Draco’s mouth. Draco could very well see himself a fucktoy like this for the rest of the night unless Potter had bigger plans. With the ferocious velocity he’s pumping Draco’s head on his cock, Draco’s fairly certain that is not the case.

Abruptly, Potter’s grasp on his hair tightened, he pulled, pulled, Draco had to let Potter slip out because Potter was bending his neck unnaturally backwards. Draco didn’t fight it, as he thought Potter wanted to come on his face but as a second, two, three, four, ticked by with only laboured breathing he realised Potter didn’t want to come at all.

“Please,” Draco pled, “my Lord, please, I could-”

“ _Quiet._ ” Potter’s eyes were pressed shut, his grip on Draco’s hair hard, he still breathed as if just being close to drowning and Draco yearned so much to take him into his mouth again so he could catch up with the impending release he ultimately wasn’t allowing Draco to give him. But Potter only kept him in place. “I’m not done with you,” he said. Draco wanted to tell him there was nothing stopping him from coming twice, from taking his time in between.

“I’m all yours, my Lord.”

“I told you to be quiet.” Potter kept refusing to open his eyes again, he blindly tapped Draco’s face, almost hitting him in the eye. “Up,” he said. The authority with which he said it made Draco forget that he wanted to make Potter come, and he scrambled to his feet, uncertain of what would come next. For a while, nothing did. They stood, Potter halfway to undressed and breathing, Draco awaiting further instructions or at least some sort of response from the other man. Because of the fact that Potter was not looking, Draco took his sweet time ogling Potter, and especially his slowly slacking cock. It glistened with drying saliva and pre-come, Draco could still taste him and wanted to do so again.

When halfway to completely slack, Potter’s hand was back in his hair but instead of pressing him down, he pulled him towards himself. Defying his own rule, he very much kept his eyelids shut and Draco only had time to inhale before Potter irrationally crashed their mouths together. With every bit of self-control Draco could muster, he let it happen. His mind went completely gobbled and he found himself with both of his hands gently rested on Potter’s chest, he didn’t know when they’d gotten there, he didn’t know why Potter let them be there. He made sure not to move them even an inch further. Draco did not push into it but he did respond to it; he greeted the kiss like a long lost lover and he too closed his eyes. Potter didn’t kiss him with fondness, but neither with the utmost passion he’d displayed earlier; no, Potter kissed him like an investigation. Like Draco was a piece of evidence Potter couldn’t completely understand, like something he needed to solve and by kissing him, he thought he would do so. Draco thought himself a mystery, and Potter the Auror appointed the case. It lasted a second, a lifetime, however long it took for Potter to untangle the Draco-enigma he was captivated with. He bit Draco’s lower lip as he forced Draco’s head back, nearly drawing blood, the tinge of it spreading through Draco’s entire body just like the slaps had done.

Potter was, at last, looking at him again. Curiously now. “You’re allowed to speak again,” he said.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Draco responded and then he realised he was still touching Potter, his hands were still resting on his chest. Draco looked down at them, before looking up at Potter.

“Taking many liberties, are we?” Potter asked and Draco quickly removed his hands. Potter laughed. Just like one would a puppy doing something it wasn’t allowed to and it looking at you with the biggest eyes. Draco wasn’t sure whether it was a good laugh or not.

“Please, pardon me, my Lord, I don’t know what came over me,” Draco said. He wanted to lower his gaze, wanted to bow, but that didn’t exactly condone with the rules so he stayed put.

Queerly enough, Potter replied, “Makes two of us.” Some of his dominant posture, grace had left him. It struck Draco as odd. “I think you should strip,” Potter continued, and it was a funny thing for him to say. It was almost questioning his own words like he wasn’t sure if that was what he actually wanted. Not a single thing he’d said up until that point had even hinted in insecurity, but now it was like Potter was… a little lost.

Draco only let his heart beat twice before he said, “Are you sure?”

Potter’s hand left a stinging trace on Draco’s cheek. “Don’t you dare,” Potter spat, his face a snarl, his shoulders set. His eyes were lit up with many more things he did not say. Draco couldn't believe himself the audacity to have said such a thing to his lord, but he found himself content in being the complete subordinate once more. “Have the pet forgotten the rules?” Potter asked.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” Draco said, trying to sound as soft as possible, “I have not forgotten the rules.”

Potter slapped him again, harder. “So you disobeyed them knowingly?”

“No, my Lord,” Draco whispered desperately. “I did not mean to step out of bounds.”

“Now, bounds, that is a decent idea,” Potter said and Draco involuntarily started breathing much heavier than before. The belt still hung from around his neck and he hoped intensely that it was going to be used. Magical bonds in all honour, but there was something more primal in using something real. Potter tore the belt away, it unintentionally snapped Draco over the shoulder in the process and Draco gasped feverishly, his face heating. Potter gave him a playful snap.

“Strip,” he said.

“With pleasure, my Lord,” Draco responded. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and let it fall to the floor as Potter watched him; belt in hand, trousers halfway down his legs, dick out. It should’ve looked funny, but somehow what radiated off of him was control and power. Draco folded down the sleeves of the light gray dress shirt he was wearing, before opening and shuffling out of that one too and dropping it. His marked arm pounded when he gave it a thought but he didn’t look down to inspect it. Potter, however, cheated. His gaze darted away, down Draco’s upper body, around, down, back up again. Then, Potter smirked.

“Say, Draco,” he said and slapped the belt with one hand into his other hand’s open palm. “Do you bruise easily?”

Draco stopped his fingers from opening his pants. “Yes,” he breathed and hoped it would earn him marks that lasted to the next century. His pale complexion shone in the dim light, and he would give up his free will if it meant Potter would colour it for him. “Yes,” he said again, “yes, like a peach, my Lord.”

“‘Like a peach’, you say?” Potter said and took a step forward, his cock hanging dangerously close to Draco’s slipping fingers. “Well, how about I just take a bite?”

Draco’s mouth hung open, he was lost for words, he couldn't think, nor breathe. He tried to say “please” but the word fell tame and unrecognizable. Potter slipped the belt around Draco’s back, giving him an unceremonious swat with it before capturing the other end with his hand, effectively capturing Draco in between the leather and Potter’s body. Draco had sense enough to put his arms to his sides so he butter fingers wouldn’t reach somewhere they weren’t supposed to. Then Potter used the belt to push Draco into him. Close enough for kissing, their stomachs flat against each other, Potter’s godforsaken cock aligned to Draco’s. Draco’s mind didn’t spin any slower at that.

“I am,” Potter started and tugged at the belt so Draco really felt that they were smashed together, “really am, man enough to admit I was a bit off track there earlier. I got a little too inside my own head, you know what I mean?” It was an obviously rhetorical question, so Draco decided just to focus on breathing. Potter talked like he was relaying a joke, which made his following sentences more alarming than they otherwise would’ve. “I will have you understand,” he said, “that any similar occurrences will not happen again. I will have you understand that if you again talk to me even near to the way you did, this belt is going to either leave something close to permanent on your skin or be tightened an eyelet harder. I will have you understand that apologizing or begging or sucking up will not impact that outcome. Are we clear?”

“Like Veritaserum, my Lord,” Draco nodded.

Potter looked at him like he wanted to call him a nerd but refrained from doing so. “When I let you go, you are to remove the rest of your clothes and lay on your back on the bed. We do have one in here, so why not use it?” It had slipped Draco’s mind that they were indeed in a bedroom. He’d just thought of getting the mark, the pain, and then Potter’s ongoing game.

“Yes, my Lord,” Draco agreed and Potter nodded once before releasing one end of the belt like he was opening a cage for Draco to step out of. Draco impatiently got out of his trousers and underwear after which he stepped up to the bed, just a meter from where Potter had before stood. He crawled up on and laid down in the middle, head on the pillow flat backed and limbs slightly outwards. Potter rustled slightly, stripping surely, and when he came up to the end of the bed, chest bare, he stopped, wand in hand.

“My Lord?” Draco said.

Potter cocked his head. “I’m deciding whether to open you up or not.”

Draco whimpered needily. “Please, my Lord,” he begged, “your fingers would be extraordinary in me, please, please, let me…” he paused to swallow, to wet his lips, “...please, let me have that.”

Potter put his free hand on the foot of the bed frame. “But where in that, is the fun for me?”

“My Lord, I beg you, please. I’ll do anything,” Draco said.

“And you wouldn’t otherwise?” Potter snorted.

Dire for Potter to try every possible way to be inside him, he tried a different approach. “I’ll be crying for so much more, it won’t be enough, I’ll beg for the real thing more profoundly than I ever could without it. My Lord. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“You’re quite the persuader, aren’t you? I didn’t clarify enough earlier?”

Draco’s face fell, the whole of him fell, the air was knocked out of him. “Forgive me, my Lord,” he started. “Of course _you_ decide, I did not mean to-”

“Shush.” Draco snapped his mouth shut. “I’m going to give you a reminder, freshen up your memory. Be still.” Draco had arched ever so slightly on the bed, now he let his body go completely limp as he awaited the disciplinary action to be executed. Potter’s words were indicating something more provocative than the slapping he’d referred to before, and now Draco was dying for Potter to use the belt on him, despite feeling useless for defying his lord. He held his breath when Potter raised his wand, and he exhaled as Potter sent an Incarcerous spell his way. The spell twisted around Draco’s wrists and all the way up to his upper arms like thin ropes and the next second he was being pulled in either direction; strapped to the bed like Christ himself if the Son of God had ever fallen in sin with Judas.

“You are,” Potter said, he took the end of the belt in his hand and disregarded his wand to instead hold the strap a couple decimeters from the other end so the buckle swung back and forth, “to stay perfectly silent.” Draco had relaxed his entire body but as the metal hit his skin on the inside of one of his thighs, he tensed, pulled his legs up a couple inches without meaning to, pulled at his secured wrists. Potter’s eyes burned. Draco would have never looked away. The pain was too searing to leave any marks more violent than red, at least until Potter hit him again. “And lie still,” Draco was told and he tried his hardest to extend his leg and keep it that way, but with each rap it grew tougher and tougher. He cried apologies for not being able to comply, none of which Potter cared for. Especially, he told him, because he had told Draco to shut up.

Draco counted seven strikes before Potter eased down, before he let Draco breathe properly, before he put the belt down, draped it around the bed frame like a warning and he leaped up into bed. He situated himself over Draco’s waist, his cock tucked away inside his underwear again but otherwise stripped, one knee on either side of Draco’s body.

“Now, now, Draco, baby,” Potter said and his hands came up to Draco’s face, almost gentle, at least compared to what they’d been doing a minute earlier. He wiped away tears from under Draco’s eyes as if he wasn’t the one who’d put them there. “You understand the arrangement.” He said it like a statement, not a question, but Draco nodded. “So you understand that this was necessary.” Draco nodded again. “I could remind you all night, but I do think there are more fun ways to spend an evening, don’t you?”

“I do, my Lord,” Draco sobbed. Potter leaned back and fished out his wand, he whispered and the bonds which held Draco’s arms slid away. Some places where it had been tied would be left with bruises, Draco knew, but it was his left arm that made him unable to stop crying. The Dark Mark was still fresh and the Incarcerous had not been gentle with it. As much as Draco’s thigh hurt, it was his arm he felt was going to fall off. He kept both arms outstretched despite the bonds not holding them in place.

“What’s the matter with you?” Potter asked, visibly bemused by Draco’s continuous sniveling.

“The Mark, my Lord,” Draco whispered and as Potter gave it a look, Draco for the first time did too. Where his skin had once displayed an off-white colour, it was now oozing black. It bled. Not much, but enough so to be visible, and the rope had itched the sensitive area further. Draco felt like he could only bear it because he knew that it _meant_ something to Potter that he’d gotten it.

“Ah, we haven’t activated it yet,” Potter said with a grin, “how thoughtless of me.” He brought out and pressed his thumb to his own Dark Mark. The snake started to move but Draco’s gaze had fallen back to his own, and he gasped out in horror when his snake not only moved under his skin but on it as well.

“Well now, respond to it,” Potter said impatiently and Draco bent his other aching arm to press his thumb to the snake’s tail. From the second that he did, the pain flittered away. Left in its wake was a buzzing edge which was more leaning towards pleasant and the mark almost healed up in front of their eyes, glowing rather than angrily fume. Draco stared at it, swelling with pride that he was now part of the inner circle. He turned to Potter who was already looking at him.

“Thank you,” Draco said and he must’ve done so too sincerely because Potter shoved him down into the mattress.

“Let’s get back to business,” he said. Draco quickly sobered up, he realised not only that Potter was talking about more enjoyable things but also that he was literally sitting atop Draco, pressing his wrists into the mattress, face down close to Draco’s. “I do believe we have some preparations to take care of.” But Potter didn’t move.

Lifting his chin ever so slightly, Draco slowly parted his lips. “Please, my Lord,” he said, voice low, steady, and the effect was more prominent than any other time he’d pleaded.

Potter’s face shone craze-ladened, he let go of Draco’s wrists only to put one hand in his hair, the other around his throat. He pressed Draco down with both accompanied by his lips impossibly demanding on Draco’s. There were too many things for Draco to feel he didn’t know where to start. The breathing difficulties weren’t too severe, so the chokehold rather intensified everything else rather dragged focus towards itself. Draco couldn’t believe they were kissing again, that it was a thing Potter wanted, but it made his entire body prickle and he withered, moaned, tried asking for more without being greedy. He didn’t mean to, but he bucked his hips, looking for friction and managing to find some. Potter lifted his head, but kept pressing Draco down, and he made sure Draco looked him in the eye before he said, “Stay.” He waited a second, made sure the command really sunk in, Draco’s body slackening, then he freed Draco’s throat and he took a deep breath, the world coming into sharp focus.

“If you can manage now, I’ll give you _these_ ,” Potter held up a hand and showed his fingers off by quickly moving them back and forth, “where you want them.”

Draco decided that there was nothing in the entire world that would make him so much as shift.

Potter lowered his hand and when he put it down, he put it on Draco’s inner thigh, on the one he had not beaten before. Draco had resolutely prepared, so he didn’t move, but he had thought Potter would give him pain rather than… pleasure. Slowly and antagonizing, Potter stroked his thigh, up Draco’s pelvis, beside his cock, and back down again on the other side. He grinned when he saw that Draco had to restrain himself monumentally, and kept roaming over his skin to find a place to trick Draco into moving. Draco did not move. Not even when Potter surprised him with slapping his side. However, he did whimper and whine like the worst little bottom bitch. It seemed Potter responded well to such wails of need, because for every one Draco emitted, he dragged his fingers further, soaked in the sounds and mixed together with his already built arousal and sent them right back down to Draco through the look in his eyes. It was when Potter let his hand slide gracefully over his cock that Draco really had to force himself to stay in place, but he moaned, so high in his throat it almost pitched out. Potter breathed in and out once before removing his hand.

“On your stomach,” Potter said and smoothly climbed off him. Draco flipped over before he could even consider anything else. His body shivered with anticipation. Potter returned quickly. He sat down on top of Draco’s thighs, his now free cock bumped Draco’s arse before he moved backwards and the prospect of having it soon inside him made Draco widen his eyes, breathe in sharply, tensed his entire body.

“Fingers first,” Potter said like he could read Draco’s thoughts, “you begged your way into that, took a beating and a teasing for it; I’m not changing my mind now.”

“Please,” Draco yelped.

“Tough luck,” Potter snorted. He tapped the Draco’s bum with his wand and muttered two consecutive spells, one for cleansing and one for lubrication and Draco exhaled slowly. He could only think of how good this would be. Potter nudged his first finger in slower than necessary, and Draco could tell it wasn’t for Draco’s benefit, but for Potter’s game: he wanted to see how much he could have Draco squirm before giving it to him good and hard. Draco pushed against it, let it slid in with ease and Potter gave a small chuckle.

“Who’s a needy little puppy?” Draco preened and repeatedly told Potter that “he was, he was”. He was already spasming with pleasure of being opened up and _cared_ for, and he made Potter know how grateful he was for this by making the sweetest sounds he could. Because Potter was sitting on him, weighing him down, Draco couldn’t really move anything, but he could press up against Potter, which he did when Potter stopped, his index finger, not even halfway inside him. Potter put his other hand on Draco’s lower back and pressed too.

“You’ll get more when I want to give you more,” he said and Draco forced himself to relax.

“Please, my Lord.”

“I couldn’t quite hear you,” Potter said and started to move his finger out again.

“Please!” Draco exclaimed desperately. “Please, my Lord, deeper, more, _please_.” It seemed enough because Potter pushed down, down, to the last knuckle and he added a second finger immediately as he brought it out of him again, and pushed them both down hard and loosening.

“Enough?” he asked.

“No, no, no,” Draco cried, “my Lord, please. please-”

Potter twisted his fingers and he passed Draco’s sweet spot, making him howl out and his whole body shake. Potter laughed and deliberately didn’t go there again. Draco pled for him to do so, to give him more, harder, anything, everything, but Potter just casually kept fingering him with the two fingers, like he had all the time in the world and that Draco’s voice was a mere distant tinnitus.

Potter was so close to where Draco wanted him to be, just a little bit further, but then no. If Draco would just, just a little bit… “My Lord,” Draco said, “I can’t be still.”

“You have to be,” Potter said and the hand that was pressing on his back eased up, letting him go completely. Then he stopped moving again. Draco went wild.

“My Lord, I beg you, don’t do this to me, let me, please, I’ve been good, I’ll be so good.” Potter breathed so hard Draco could feel the air on his back and it was too much. “ _Please_.” His cock was so hard against the mattress, he was so aroused there wasn’t any logical reason for why he didn’t just press up against Potter’s awaiting fingers.

“You were right,” Potter murmured, “this is worth it.” He pushed a third finger in, stretching Draco wide and aching. Stopped moving again. He put his hand back on Draco’s spine, but this time he let it travel upwards, a light press until he reached Draco’s hair which he grabbed onto. He leaned down his face as well, putting it close to Draco’s ear. The position made Potter’s cock fall onto Draco’s back, leaking and inviting. Draco whined. “Do you want it?” Potter asked and moved his fingers forward.

“Yes, my Lord,” Draco replied, hoping Potter would let him feel oh so good again but he didn’t go as deep as he could. “I want you badly, my Lord.”

“Are my fingers not good?” Potter asked and Draco knew that he smirked without seeing it.

“Of course, my Lord,” Draco swallowed.

“But you want more?”

“ _Yes,_ my Lord.”

Potter tugged at his hair and pulled all of his fingers out. “Slut,” he said. Draco rolled his eyes, his hips, he felt hollowed and ready. Potter smacked his bum. “What did I tell you about moving?” Draco stilled and opened his eyes. He stopped breathing when Potter moved away from him, was he going to-

But Draco didn’t have time to think the thought to an end before he heard Potter removing the belt from where it was hanging on the bed frame.

“P-p-please, my Lord,” Draco stammered.

“Get up,” Potter said without listening. “Stand on your knees.” Draco did as told, with shaking hands he got up, and he looked over his shoulder to see Potter waddle forward to stand on his knees behind him as well. It made his cock lay upwards on Draco’s arse, something they both moaned quietly at. Potter lay each arm over Draco’s shoulders, as if to hug him, and his face he placed on the right side, the side which Draco was looking. He held the belt out.

“It’s rather pretty, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It is, my Lord,” Draco agreed and he watched as Potter picked out a pair of eyelets on the smaller side of the loop.

“I do believe I promised marks or a tighter noose in regard to misbehaviour, correct me if I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong, my Lord.”

“Thought so. Now, since we don’t have you tied, I can’t really make this any smaller than it already is, but I’d put you here,” he held up the belt with his thumb on the eyelet he’d chosen before, “so I think it’s just fair that we make it a notch smaller.” He moved the belt so the loop would become half an inch smaller and then he brought it towards Draco’s throat. He had to lean back to get it around, Draco stood perfectly still and let it happen. He felt Potter’s cock pulse, his own did the same and once Potter was done fastening the belt, just a little tight to breathe normally, the loose strap fell down to thud him on his spine.

“See, now this,” Potter said, low in his throat, “is where things really get interesting. On all fours, like a good little pup,” he then urged and Draco let his upper body fall down, catching himself with his hands. It was finally going to happen, Harry Potter would finally make Draco _his_.

“You’re going to love this, aren’t you, Draco, baby?” Potter deliberately dragged his cock along Draco’s ass cheek and Draco gulped his confirmation. Potter then lifted the belt end and lightly jerked it. “And if I tug on this end, you…?”

Draco swallowed around the thickness in his throat. “Stay put, my Lord.”

“Such a good slut,” Potter said and Draco swayed back by the intense gratification it filled him with. He wanted to be the best slut Potter ever fucked.

When Potter whispered a protection spell, Draco perked slightly. Potter pulled once at the belt as if to tell him off for doing so and then he put his other hand on Draco’s hip. Draco took a breath.

“Please, my Lord.”

And Potter went to town like he had the whole thing planned out in minute detail. He pushed in hard, ignoring Draco’s shocked reaction. Draco tried keeping up with it, but Potter pounded into him with such fierceness it was quite impossible, so Draco only got lost in the feeling of being exploited, whimpering uncontrollably.

Potter did not look to find where Draco would like it best, no, he changed his stance, the way he’d thrust for his own benefit alone, the only thing that could be said was that whenever Draco cried out louder because of something he did, he might do it again because he liked the sounds. So Potter held a tight grip on the belt and spanked Draco over and over because it seemed he liked the choked off way Draco cried that way.

“Can you handle it?” Potter asked and despite the fact that he didn’t sound like he wanted an answer, Draco gave him one.

“Yes,” he promised and he hoped that meant Potter would go at him harder, “yes, please, my Lord.” His voice was slightly gurgled, his vision darkened slightly, so he just closed his eyes when Potter pulled harder, the leather carved into his skin and Draco felt his pulse beat tightly. Then Potter let go of the strap in favour of grabbing Draco, fingers digging into his hips, hopefully leaving marks in their wake. Draco breathed as well as he could with the belt so snugly fastened, as well he could with Potter fucking him like there was no tomorrow.

“You should alway stay like this,” Potter said and tugged a couple of times at the belt, “like a tied up puppy waiting for the whip.” Draco yammered. “You should be locked up and kept stretched open, ready for me at any time. Wouldn’t you like that? To always be fuckable?”

“Yes, my Lord, yes, I always want you to fuck me,” Draco responded faintly.

“I’m going to teach you to be such a good puppet,” Potter purred and when Draco cried he’d be the best puppet his lord had ever seen, Potter didn’t say anything more. He thrust and thrust and then suddenly he completely lost his rhythm.

The way Potter sounded when he came made Draco’s body scream for its own release, but he was not physically there, so he just whined as Potter harshly fucked into him a few more times before coming to a stop. He slapped Draco’s back, a quick drumroll, and pulled out quickly afterwards. Draco exhaled sharply at the loss, feeling punctured. He remained in the same place, not sure if he was allowed to move but at the same time also not really wanting to move either. As Potter threw himself down on beside him, they locked eyes again and the smirk on Potter’s face was threatening to break his head in half.

Potter reached forward and for a second he tightened the belt harder around Draco’s neck but Draco soon realised it was only so that he could get it open and remove it. Draco had been able to breathe the whole time, but with the contraption gone, he didn’t have to put so much focus on it, which made him able to put focus on other things. Like the fact that Potter’s cum was inside him or that he was so turned on he could practically see starts around the edges of his vision. Draco pressed his head down in the pillow, and stayed with his arse pointed to the sky. He tried breathing himself flaccid, now when Potter wasn’t touching his skin, when there were no magical nor real bounds around him, when it was just him and the echo of what had just been done to him. The thoughts alone were enough to have him stay hard, the fact that he could hear Potter move around beside him kept it certain.

“Look here,” Potter said and Draco forced himself to lift his head to turn it towards Potter. He was lying half on his back, half on his side and he was giving Draco’s continuous position an amused glance.

“Your cum, my Lord,” Draco said without Potter questioning it, “I want it to stay inside me.”

Potter’s face slackened in surprise, yet it flared up with quiet lust by the words. Draco wished such an expression would make Potter give him permission to come, but instead, it made Potter sit up.

“You’re a cum slut, aren’t you?” he asked and Draco arched.

“Yes, my Lord, yes.”

Potter moved on the bed, close but too far down for Draco to see him, but he could feel the movement on the mattress.

“And now you want my cum to stay inside you, is that right?” Draco confirmed it profoundly. “Let’s make sure it does,” Potter said before he pushed two fingers back into of Draco. Draco cried out, arched even further, his cock pulsed dangerously close to coming again and he frantically hugged the pillow to keep from disobeying. Potter made it even harder for him because he not only pushed his fingers in, slowly scissoring while inside, but he also came to grace at Draco’s prostate, making him whimper and tense to not come on the spot. Potter knew what he did, that doing this would be excruciating with time but he seemed firmly set on having Draco die of an unreleased orgasm.

“Quite the sight: my slut full of my come,” Potter said and pressed in a little harder.

Draco moaned before repeating the words “your slut, your slut, your slut” until he was physically unable to say anything more. Potter fingered him slowly, too much at the same time as it wasn’t enough and Draco couldn’t stop the sounds from slipping out of his mouth, he couldn't help but wither, ass still in the air.

“Do you want to come?” Potter asked and just the thought of being allowed to almost tipped him over the edge.

“Yes, please, my Lord,” he said, airily and with so much effort he felt like there was no more energy left.

“If you do it yourself, you can,” Potter said and Draco exhaled all the air in his lungs in a second, before he struggled to get one of his hands free enough to touch himself. Not even half a dozen strokes was enough, with Potter intensifying it with his fingers still on Draco’s prostate and his cum in Draco’s ass. He came screaming, it almost hurt with intensity, his cum hot on his fingers. He arched and straightened his back to fuck his own hand through the last hitches of the release and then his body gave up. He fell down into his own wet cum on the mattress, Potter slipping his sleek fingers out of him in the process. His shoulders shook, his legs shook, his face was pressed down, he didn’t think he would be able to move in seven days. He only heard Potter lying down on the mattress again as if he was doing it far, far away. His mind was a foggier than he’d ever seen London and he remembered how to breathe just before he was going to pass out.

Draco felt lucid and floaty like if he wasn’t held down, he’d disappear into the void. Although Draco felt like there was no energy left in him, he managed to roll over to his side so that he was facing Potter. With the power of will, he shuffled closer to his lord, not touching but very near, and then pulled his knees up so he lay in a fetal position. He didn’t feel sleepy, exhausted nonetheless, but he also managed to open his eyes to give Potter a pleading look.

“What do you want?” Potter asked flatly.

It took effort and time before Draco could open his mouth and say, “Contact, my Lord, please, any contact at all.” Potter regarded him, he was laying flat on his back with one hand under his head and he looked like he was trying to figure out whether to take a second piece of pie or not. In the end, Potter turned to his side so that he was fully facing Draco and he shot out his hand to rest it around Draco’s head, scraping his fingernails along Draco’s hairline. Draco made a very catlike mewing sound and had he borne more similarities to a kitten, he surely would’ve purred too. The gesture grounded him better than he’d ever thought, and his eyes kept drooping. He was spent and felt used in the best way he’d experienced in his life, and now Potter’s fingers on his skin made him feel connected with himself on another plane of existence.

“I’m so thankful, my Lord,” he murmured.

“And so you should be,” Potter said.

They lay still, in the quiet as they both came down from the high. Draco didn’t know if the rules still applied, but Potter kept watching him, so Draco tried his best to keep his eyes open but they kept flicking shut.

Minutes passed, maybe ten, Potter kept scratching Draco’s scalp and Draco kept trying not to fall asleep.

Then Potter used his scratching hand to instead flick Draco on the nose. “Can’t even keep your eyes open, huh?”

Draco wondered why he’d taken so long to ask about it, but didn’t say anything about it. “I’ll try my best if you want me to, my Lord.”

“I do,” Potter said. “I’ll even help you chase the drowsiness away.” He pushed at Draco’s shoulder so that he rolled over onto his back and then he climbed up on top of him, dropped himself down, thighs against thighs, chest against chest, Potter’s arms squaring Draco’s head in. As if Draco had never felt tired in his life, he stared at Potter, wide eyed, in awe.

“You’re such an easy little puppy,” Potter said. “Throw you a bone and you beg like a man on death row.” To Draco’s surprise, and good fortune, Potter started moving his hips, slow and careful. His cock was half hard between them already, and the motion made Draco’s come to life even after the intensity of his release. “Tell me something, Draco,” Potter said and Draco’s breath hitched at his name. “How did you like my cock?”

Experimentally, Draco bucked his hips to meet Potter’s thrust and Potter didn’t comment. “I’ve never had something so good, my Lord,” Draco responded.

“Oh, but you have had others, haven’t you?”

Draco wasn’t sure what to respond, but Potter kept moving, he didn’t seem to hold it against Draco. “Yes, my Lord, I have.”

“Yes,” Potter said too and he thrust once more aggressively, “you’ve been around quite a lot, haven’t you?”

Draco didn’t think it was such a good thing to admit, but he did anyway. Potter responded by moving his hands so that he could put both his thumbs around Draco’s already sensitive throat.

“Like a dirty little fucktoy, you’ve been with many men, haven’t you?” Draco only swallowed and nodded. “You’ve let other men fuck you open,” Potter continued, “despite the fact that you’re _mine_ , you fucking cock slut whore?”

Draco had been Potter’s for years, but Potter hadn’t claimed him before today. It seemed it didn’t matter. “I have, my Lord,” Draco said truthfully.

“Is that how you thank me? For taking care of you? Huh? You let yourself get fucked, like the little slut you are? You thought I’d like to hear about that?”

“No, my Lord,” Draco said. Potter took his hands away and buried his fingers in Draco’s hair again, rubbing off against him harder and harder.

“That’s over with,” Potter declared. “If you let anyone as much as touch your arm inappropriately, I will put a leash on you and have you crawl everywhere by my feet, do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Draco whimpered, “I’m only yours.”

“That’s right, mine.” Potter looked like he was sucking on the word. “Only mine, you’re _my_ slut. If you’re going to beg for anyone’s cock, it’s _mine_.”

“Only yours, my Lord, only yours.”

“Beg for me now,” Potter ordered and Draco only had time to do so once before Potter shoved his way inside him again.

If Potter had fucked him for fun before, he was doing it to prove a point now. It was messier in every way: Potter’s movements erratic, their bodies so close made it hot enough to sweat, he muttered things rather than said them, he didn’t seem to notice much when Draco followed with him and made Potter go deeper by hoisting his legs further up. Draco couldn’t even begin to compare this to what had come before, it was like two different things; like this was sex and the other was fucking, and they were no longer synonyms to each other. Potter was there to make Draco remember this lesson, to fuck any thought of bedding someone else out of his mind, which meant when he thrust and hit Draco just right, he kept doing so. Draco moaned louder with each ramming of Potter’s hips and he grabbed a hold of the sheets to not grab his lord.

Grunting, Potter held up, taking Draco’s body in his hands and moving him up a bit so that he could easier keep going and the new angle was even better. He went slower, breathing heavily into Draco’s mouth. Draco babbled thank yous and promises like Potter had compelled him to do so. But it seemed Potter wasn’t having any of it right now, he told Draco to shut up and then forced two fingers far down his throat. The intrusion came as a surprise; Draco gagged and gagged and his body didn’t know what else to do than tense itself which in turn made Potter huff and yelp uncontrollably, made Potter press his fingers deeper and fuck Draco quicker, made Potter come again inside him. Draco was so strained, he kept choking, he was being filled with more of Potter’s cum, his cock was trapped and stimulated between their bodies, Potter was staring at him through his orgasm and Draco blacked out for just a second before he too came, a teary mess.

Potter took away his fingers when he stopped coming and Draco coughed, already wanting them back down again. They were both breathing heavily, cum and sweat mixing together between their stomachs. Draco had felt like the world was made of clouds the first time he’d come, now he was spiraling completely out of control, his mind leaving him swimming in nothingness. Potter let him be there for maybe a minute before he came down with is palm on Draco’s cheek. It didn’t even pain Draco, it just sent another wave of complete pleasure, but it did make him focus back on Potter’s eyes.

He, for some reason, looked calmly outraged. “I didn’t give you permission to come, did I?”

Draco swallowed. The rush of extreme pleasure was quickly exchanged by shame for doing something he wasn’t allowed to and the sudden change in emotion made Draco start crying again. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, “I’m sorry, my Lord, forgive me, I didn’t mean to, I just…”

But Potter’s face went back to playful and he grabbed Draco’s face with both hands. “You’re just such a slut for me you couldn't help it?” he teased. “Isn’t that right, Draco? You love my cock so much, don’t you?” He jerked Draco’s head from side to side a couple of times as if they were just playing around, like it wasn’t such a big deal, like Draco was just being sensitive.

“Yes, yes, not on purpose,” Draco said, “just love being yours, love to be taken by you, your slut, my Lord, your slut, such a slut.”

“It’s okay, Draco,” Potter hushed, “I understand, you didn’t mean to.”

“I promise, my-” but Potter cut him off with a surprising kiss. It stunned Draco quiet.

“I believe you, puppet,” Potter said and when he saw the look on Draco’s face, he slapped him as if to make up for kissing him, as if to make sure Draco didn’t get any ideas. “Now, I’m going to stay here, Draco, baby, inside you, pressing my cum into you like you want because even though you were a naughty cum slut who came without permission, you were such a good little fucktoy.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Draco murmured.

“I’ll decide that,” Potter said. He tapped Draco’s face and gave a small nod.

Draco sighed appreciatively. “Thank you, my Lord.”

 


End file.
